


Brush With Obsession

by jonius_belonius (Joni_Beloni)



Category: Suits (US TV)
Genre: Cheating, Drama, Kidnapping, M/M, Smut, Some Implausible Stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-28 05:34:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14442459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joni_Beloni/pseuds/jonius_belonius
Summary: Mike is out of prison, but he and Rachel are having trouble readjusting to one another. After a fight, Mike runs to Harvey. The next day Rachel is gone. Can they find her in time to save her?





	Brush With Obsession

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt, “She’s Gone.” Also, for a prompt a few months ago from TheSightlessSniper. (I think … That was you, wasn’t it? If so, thank you!)

The watcher adjusted the high-powered telescope, focusing tightly on the embracing couple.

Wind whipped Rachel’s hair, obscuring her perfect face, as well as the face of her fiancé. 

_Fucking Mike Ross, luckiest sonofabitch in the world._

A few feet away from them, the great Harvey Specter looked benignly on.

No, not so benignly. Moving the scope to Specter’s face, and viewing it in crystal clear detail, the watcher, with a visceral thrill, recognized frustration, jealousy, and tightly leashed rage, all twin to his own. 

_Interesting_.

He filed that bit of information away for later, to be mulled over, and incorporated into his plans if necessary.

For now, he only observed. Returning the scope to the touching (nausea inducing) reunion, he lined up imaginary cross-hairs with Mike Ross’ head, and fantasized how he could increase the pressure of his finger on a phantom trigger, picturing the burst of brain and blood, reveling in the power he could have held right now – the power of life and death over his despised rival — if he’d had the forethought to exchange the telescope for a rifle.

Perspiring freely, despite the biting chill of the wind, he ordered himself to calm down, and to just breathe.

_Stay disciplined. Remain on script._

He shook his hand vigorously to dispel the seductive image, and wiped his damp forehead on his sleeve. He didn’t need to put a bullet in Ross’s head to exact his revenge. If things went as he hoped, Ross would be wanting to put that bullet there himself soon enough.

He smiled smugly. Ross might be out of prison, and he might believe his troubles were over, but they were only beginning.

 

******

 

Harvey smiled at Mike over a tidy line of glasses filled with the finest varieties of scotch that money could buy.  “How are you settling in?”

Mike shrugged and selected a glass at random. He sipped from it and set it down. “Fine. Sort of. Rachel is walking on eggshells around me. I keep reminding her it was only two months. I just wish she would back off and give me some space.”

“You could always shank her.”

Mike’s mouth fell open. “What?”

“Prison humor.  Too soon?”

Mike shook his head. “To qualify as humor, it needs to be funny, and that is not funny.”

“Sorry.”

Harvey didn’t look sorry. Maybe it was the mile-wide grin on his face which had been there ever since Mike walked into the restaurant and spotted him at his table in the middle of the room.  He wanted to be as happy as Harvey looked.  And sure, he was happy, underneath the exhaustion and residual jitters left over from those final few days in Danbury.  He’d lost count of how many times his life had been threatened in the last week.  You didn’t simply walk away from that, carefree and smiling.

He waved off Harvey’s apology.  “It’s fine. I’m sure I’ll get my sense of humor back about all of this eventually.”

“No. I get it. Take all the time you need.”

Mike tried the next scotch in line, and nodded appreciatively, because that’s what Harvey expected. Truthfully, they tasted identical to him. He’d never been a connoisseur, not like Harvey. He would have much preferred a beer, or even a mixed, fruity drink. A smile played around his mouth as it occurred to him that Harvey shared this drink snobbishness with Rachel, although with her it was all about wine. 

Huh. Maybe he had a type.

Mike froze, as he realized where his thoughts had just gone. It didn’t freak him out as much as it had the first time he had considered Harvey in that way. His time in prison had amplified those feelings. The only face he’d seen from the outside during those stress-filled weeks had been Harvey’s. His fiancée, on the other hand, had been too busy with other things to make the drive to Danbury several times a week. Harvey had done that. Rachel had not. Which – he didn’t blame her.  Not really.

Did he?

Harvey’s voice intruded on his thoughts, and Mike suspected he’d asked the same question several times.  “Aren’t you even going to look at it?”

Mike glanced down at the table, to discover that an envelope had materialized in front of him. “What’s that?”

“Your signing bonus.”

“My …” He wrinkled his brow.

“For coming back to the firm.”

“Ha ha. Did you already forget the rules for what’s funny and what’s not?”

“This is no joke. I want you back. That is, I’ve missed working with you.”

“I’ve missed working with you, too, but not enough to risk getting sent back to prison.”

“Hear me out. Come back as a consultant. You’d be doing basically what you did before, but legally this time. In the meantime, we’ll figure out how we can get you admitted to the bar.”

Mike was tempted, but it felt too soon to make a decision. “Can I think about it?”

“Of course, but don’t take too long. The firm needs you back.”

Was Mike imagining it, or did something else — something unsaid — vibrate beneath Harvey’s words?

The firm needs you back.

_I need you back._

He tossed down a third glass of scotch, ignoring Harvey’s faux-outrage, and his admonishment of, “Sip, don’t gulp.”

 

******

 

Rachel was out when Mike returned home. She hadn’t been around much since Mike got back, between school, and her work on the Innocence Project. He did his best to tamp down his resentment, and told himself she hadn’t been obliged to put her life on hold, just because he’d been dumb enough to get himself thrown in prison.

No, that would be Harvey who had put his life on hold.

The scotch he’d drunk earlier was giving him a sour stomach, so he rooted around in the kitchen, putting together a sandwich. The buzzer rang, and he absently pressed the switch to open the front door, thinking it was Rachel, who had her hands too full of work to locate her keys inside her purse. He had just settled in on the couch and was clicking through the channels for a movie he hadn’t seen yet, when someone knocked on the apartment door.  Grumbling, he went to answer.

He should have checked the peephole first. Maybe he would have opened it anyway. As it was, when the door swung open, Logan Sanders appeared every bit as surprised as Mike felt.

“Shit. Ross. I’m … you’re here.”

“Yes, I’m here. I live here. You, on the other hand …”

“My mistake. I should go.”

“No.” Mike gave him a big, fake smile. “Come in. Let’s catch up.”

Logan started to back away from the door, but Mike was quicker, and more determined. He latched onto his arm and dragged him into the apartment. Closing the door, he leaned against it, blocking escape. They stared at one another for several long, fraught seconds.

“Logan Sanders,” murmured Mike. “I have so many questions.”

Logan paced into the living room. He did not look around the room curiously, as most people do when entering someone’s home for the first time. This was not lost on Mike.

Logan turned to face Mike again. “When did they let you out of prison?”

“Oh, you have questions too?” Mike pushed away from the door and stalked toward him, channeling Frank Gallo, and every other scary prisoner he’d encountered at Danbury. “Go ahead. Ask away.” He waited, but Logan remained silent. “No? Okay then, I’ll go first. What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Rachel invited me.”

“Really? You think it’s such a good idea to put her name in your mouth like that?”

“Ross … this was a mistake. I’m going to take off.”

“Answer the question first.”

Logan frowned, eyes flashing, making his big, stupid, handsome face even more handsome. Mike yearned to punch the handsome right off him. “You should talk to your girlfriend.”

“Fiancee’, not girlfriend.”

“Whatever. I obviously got my signals crossed.”

“How many times were you over here while I was in prison?”

An ugly smile twisted Logan’s mouth. “Maybe I lost count. Maybe it was every goddamn night.” He glared challengingly at Mike. “You gonna take another swing at me? Do it, and this time I’ll press charges. Oh, and look at you, with your brand new criminal record. That’s not going to look too good when they come to arrest you. Are you that eager to go back to prison?”

Logan stared at Mike until he stepped aside, and then walked past him and opened the door, turning for one parting shot. “If you care about Rachel, you should admit to yourself that she doesn’t need you and your baggage in her life. She’s going places. I can help her get there, but you’ll only drag her down.”

And then he was gone. Gulping in a breath, Mike realized he was shaking, and his hands were clenched into fists. He should have hit him. Screw the consequences — which neatly summed up his life so far.

No longer hungry, he tossed the remains of his sandwich in the garbage, grabbed a beer, and sat down to wait for Rachel to come home.

 

******

 

She denied everything. No, she wasn’t seeing Logan. Of course she’d been faithful to Mike while he was in prison.

“Then explain why Logan was here tonight. And why he acted so shocked to see me.”

“I don’t know, Mike.”

“Don’t you dare lie to me. Not after everything we’ve been through.”

“What we’ve been through is exactly why you should trust me now.”

She looked as angry as he felt, but he knew her. He knew every one of her expressions, all of her tells. When her eyes dropped, and her teeth tugged at her lower lip, he interpreted that as guilt.

“Tell me the truth,” he said, voice low and dangerous, “or I walk out of here right now, and if I do, I’m not coming back.”

“If you think it’s acceptable to treat me like this, after everything I endured for you, then maybe I don’t want you back.”

“What you endured?” That was so unfair, so laughable, so typically Rachel. Mike sputtered, searching for words. “I can’t believe I ever loved someone as selfish as you.”

“Selfish?”

He brushed past her and into the bedroom. Throwing his duffel bag onto the bed, he threw clothes into it, not stopping until it was as full as he could get it. All the while, he refused to say anything more to her, because what was the point?

Apparently frustrated by his lack of response, Rachel kept hammering at him. “You’re the selfish one. You put everyone in jeopardy because you couldn’t be bothered to get an actual law degree. Me, Louis, Jessica, Harvey—”

He whirled around on her, having found his voice again. “You leave Harvey out of this.”

“Oh, excuse me. How could I forget how important Harvey is to you? Everything you’ve done, every decision you’ve made is all about what Harvey might think, what he might say, what he might do. Any opinions I had were always shoved to the bottom of your pile of priorities.” She was screaming now, as out of control as he’d ever seen her. “You were supposed to love me! We were supposed to be a team. You were supposed to put me first, but you never did.”

“And there it is, right there. Quintessential Rachel. So fucking selfish. You never change.” He zipped up the duffel, grabbed a jacket, and stomped to the door. “You and Logan Fucking Sanders deserve each other.”

“At least he makes me feel like I’m special.”

He thrust a finger in her face. “Aha! I knew it. We’re done. No more chances. You have one week to move out of my apartment. If you’re still here when I get back, I’ll toss all your stuff out on the sidewalk.”

Without giving her a chance to respond, he left, slamming the door behind him.

 

******

 

Mike Ross scowling. Mike Ross lugging a duffel bag down the front steps of his building. Mike Ross hailing a cab.

From the window of the cafe across the street, the watcher added up all the clues, and smiled triumphantly.

“Genius, my ass,” he murmured. All it had taken was one short text to Logan, another text to Rachel, and the “perfect” couple had split apart as neatly as a diamond being cleaved in two with one sharp, perfectly placed tap.

He took a celebratory sip of his white chocolate peppermint mocha, and used the back of one hand to wipe away the resulting milky mustache.

He resisted the urge to cackle like a super villain, tempting as it was. All that was required now, was for him to bide his time. With Ross out of the picture, the time was ripe to pay newly single Rachel Zane a visit.

Obviously, he would need to take precautions against a fake Logan Sanders assignation becoming a real one. That was prevented easily enough. He still had the burner phone he’d used before. Another text to the stupidly handsome animal, supposedly from Rachel, should be enough to warn him off for good.

And then …

He cursed as he knocked over his drink. Mopping it up with a wad of paper napkins, he ducked his head as Ross’s cab drove slowly past the window. He hadn’t been spotted, had he? The cab kept going, accelerating as it merged into traffic.

The watcher breathed a sigh of relief.

“Sir?”

The waitress stood over him, holding a dish towel.

The watcher dropped the soggy ball of napkins. “Sorry about that.”

She wiped up the spill. “Can I get you another drink?”

“Sure,” he said, and then because this was a celebration, added, “and this time, could you add some whipped cream, with some of those sprinkly things … what are they called?”

“Jimmies?”

“That’s it. Give me a bunch of those. And a maraschino cherry. No, two cherries.”

“You got it.” She left to place the order.

_Yeah, I got it. Or I soon will. I_ _’ll have everything I ever wanted._

_Everything I deserve._

 

******

 

“Mike? What are you doing here? Dare I hope that you’ve changed your mind already about coming to work for me?”

“Can I come in?

“Of course.” Harvey opened the door wider, and Mike stepped inside.

It must have been apparent from his face that he was upset about something.

“What’s going on?” asked Harvey.

“I … I left Rachel. We’re over. Done Finished. _Kaput_.”

“Shit. Sit down before you fall down.”

Mike dropped onto Harvey’s leather sofa.

“Now tell me. What the hell happened?”

Mike related his encounter with Logan Sanders, and the ensuing argument with Rachel. “It’s obvious, right? I’m not overreacting? She is clearly cheating on me.”

“She denied it?”

“Unequivocally.”

“I don’t know, Mike. She’s always struck me as an honest sort of person.”

“Are you taking her side?”

“What? No. I’m only playing devil’s advocate. Why jump to conclusions before you have all the facts?” He tilted his head to one side, peering more closely at Mike. “Hey. It’s going to be okay.” Mike must not have looked convinced, so he added, “Can I get you a drink?”

They’d had plenty of drinks earlier, at the restaurant, but the scene with Logan, and then the fight with Rachel, had sobered Mike up. “Sure.”

Harvey went out to the kitchen and brought back a bottle of scotch and two tumblers. He poured, and handed a glass to Mike. “Drink up. It won’t solve any of your problems, but I guarantee you’ll feel better.”

 

******

 

Mike knew he was drunk, and knew he should turn down another drink from Harvey. He didn’t care, though. He held out his glass and watched the magical amber elixir-of-numbness-and-forgetting fill the bottom third of his glass.

“She’s just …” He took a sip, held it in his mouth and swallowed, feeling the scotch heat his insides, all the way down. “She was my dream girl, you know? I never thought I could have someone like her, and then I did, and then …” He sighed. “I don’t want this experience to make me cynical, but how can it not? She cheated. She’s a cheater. I’m a cheatee.” He gave a snort of laughter. “Why do I have a sudden craving for Cheetos?”

He looked up to find Harvey regarding him with a half-smile, and a furrowed brow.

“I’m sorry, Mike. After everything else you’ve been through, you didn’t deserve this. I don’t have any magical advice to make it better. Maybe the best thing for you right now it to get some sleep. Take the night to think about it. It might not be too late to salvage the relationship.”

“Mightn’t it? I think it might. This is strike two, in a game where not even one strike is allowed. You know that better than anyone. I mean, how can she expect me to forgive something like that?”

Harvey stared into his own glass, turning it to catch the light. “Do you want to be right? Or do you want to be happy?”

“That, right there, is some kind of bullshit, trick question. You’re basically asking me to ignore what she did, pretend it never happened, and slap on a big, brave, smiley face. Grade A bullshit.”

“Still, you might find that things look better in the morning.”

Mike lifted his glass in a mock toast. “Here’s to Harvey Specter, pretty purveyor of platitudes.” He drank, finishing off the glass, and held it out towards Harvey, grinning stupidly. “Please, sir, may I have another?”

“That’s it. I’m cutting you off. Time for bed.”

“Bed? Don’t you mean couch? Unless …” He attempted to waggle his eyebrows, but only succeeded in making himself dizzy.

“No. Being drunk does not excuse you from being an idiot. I’ll grab you some sheets and blankets.”

Mike stretched out on the couch and closed his eyes. Harvey was right. He was an idiot. Instead of being merely sad and angry, now he was sad, angry, and drunk. Wasn’t the scotch supposed to make him feel better?

Plus … He blinked slowly up at the ceiling. Had he really just, sort of, almost, hit on Harvey?

“Here you go buddy.”

Mike stared up at him and shook his head slowly. Sober, he might have considered his words more carefully. Now, cut off as he was from his impulse control, unwise words spilled out of his mouth. “I don’t want the couch. I want you. And I’m not stupid. I know you want me, too.”

Harvey did not deny it outright. He stared down at Mike, while a complex progression of emotions played across his face. “This is not the time for that discussion.”

“Oh, but Harvey, talking is not what I had in mind.” He stood up, took the sheets and blankets from Harvey, and tossed them behind him, onto the couch. One step forward brought him chest-to-chest with Harvey.  Mike watched him lick his lips, and that cemented his intentions. Gathering his courage, refusing to be deterred by consequences which meant nothing to him in that moment, he grabbed Harvey by the back of his neck and kissed him.

To his immense relief, Harvey kissed him back.

 

******

 

They stumbled together into the bedroom, mouths locked together, shedding clothes as they went. Naked, they fell onto the bed, grasping, touching, stroking, kissing so desperately their teeth clicked together and Mike tasted blood. He might have pulled back, suggested they slow down, but he didn’t want to risk giving Harvey – or himself – the opportunity for second thoughts.

They rolled together, and Mike found himself on his back, with Harvey straddling his thighs.

“I want to fuck you,” Harvey growled, and all Mike could do was nod in response. In case this wasn’t answer enough, he spread his legs wider and took hold of his own cock, stroking slowly as he looked Harvey in the eye.

Harvey growled again – wordlessly, this time – and leaned his upper body across Mike to open the nightstand drawer. He scrabbled inside, expression intent and impatient, and came out with lube and condoms. Mike held out one hand, and then raised an eyebrow until Harvey got the message and handed off the supplies to him. He appeared suspicious, but not entirely put off, at the suggestion that Mike might be planning to turn the tables on him.

Mike had no such intentions. Using his teeth, he ripped open the foil wrapper, and rolled the condom onto Harvey’s hard and leaking cock, watching the flare of heat in his eyes as he tracked Mike’s deft movements. He stroked lube onto the sheathed cock, enjoying the heft and the heat of it, and frankly admiring its size, even as he felt a thrill of apprehension. It had been a while, after all. Nearly two years.

They regarded one another for several seconds, only their labored breathing breaking the thick silence.

Then, “Get yourself ready,” Harvey murmured lowly.

Heat shot through Mike’s lower belly at Harvey’s command, and he hurried to obey, coating his fingers with lube and doing a perfunctory job of stretching himself. All the while, he could feel Harvey’s gaze focused on the spot where Mike’s fingers disappeared inside himself. 

“That’s it,” Harvey whispered. “Fuck yourself good. Let me see you get three fingers in there.”

Mike bit his lip, and almost sobbed at the effort, and the burn, and the stretch, and Harvey’s hot gaze, and the feel of his heavy cock resting on his belly, and how unbearably excited it was all making him. He dragged his fingers out of himself, and pleaded with Harvey. “Do it. Don’t make me wait any longer.”

Harvey rearranged Mike’s legs, pulling them over his hips, and pressed the head of his cock to Mike’s stretched hole. With that same intense gaze, he pushed in, observing Mike’s reactions, pausing when Mike’s face tightened, resuming when Mike gave him a quick nod. Then he was fully inside him, filling him impossibly full, seeming to reach all the way to his heart.

Mike stretched his arms over his head to grasp the headboard, and threw his legs over Harvey’s shoulders. Harvey withdrew, and plunged back in, settling into a rhythm that soon had them both racing toward the precipice. Harvey ordered him to get himself off, so he unpeeled one hand from the headboard and stroked himself, coming moments later with a wild cry and an arching back.

Several more thrusts, and Harvey froze and held inside of Mike, wrapping his arms around him and gnawing his shoulder as he shook and came apart.

Mike’s legs slid back to the mattress. He closed his eyes, concentrating lazily on memorizing each separate sensation – Harvey’s cock still buried inside him, the solid weight of his body pressing Mike to the mattress, the damp slide of sweat on skin, the constriction of strong arms grasping his waist. When Harvey moved, and pulled out of Mike, he whimpered at the loss, but only a little, because he had every intention of having Harvey back inside of him soon, before the night was over.

 

******

 

Mike squinted blearily as a beam of sunlight pried his eyes open, to find himself in Harvey’s bed. The man himself lay next to him, eyeing him seriously.

Ignoring his throbbing head and parched mouth -- and pleasantly sore ass – Mike smiled at him. “When you’re right, you’re right. And by you, I mean me.” He couldn’t seem to stop grinning, even though Harvey’s answering smile contained noticeably less wattage. “Three times in one night. That was …” said Mike, searching for the appropriate superlative.

Harvey rested a hand on Mike’s hip, and finished his sentence for him, both somber and infinitely kind, “Probably a mistake.”

_Ouch. Mood thoroughly punctured._

Mike rolled away, onto his back. “Wow. Couldn’t even wait five whole minutes to retreat?”

“Mike …”

“You know what? For a supposed mistake, you sounded awfully enthusiastic, especially that last time. You felt pretty enthused, too.”

A drawn-out sigh from Harvey. “We both had a lot to drink. Especially you.”

“We had the exact same amount.”

“You’ve never held your liquor as well as me.”

Mike couldn’t believe how quickly their amazing fuck session had devolved into this pointless sniping. “Maybe, but I’m sober enough now to know that what just happened felt fantastic, that you ruined it, and … and … I’m going home.” Half a second later, he remembered why he didn’t want to go home, but it was too late to take it back.

Well, who knew? Perhaps Harvey had been right, and the situation with Rachel would look better this morning.

Because retaliatory cheating always improved things, right?

Except, that wasn’t what this had been about, had it? It hadn’t felt like it last night. In fact, Rachel had been the farthest thing from his mind.

Part of him hoped that Harvey would protest, and would urge him to stay. As Mike collected his clothes from the bedroom floor, and the hallway floor, and the living room floor, Harvey remained silent, and didn’t follow him. Mike dressed quickly and let himself out into the Manhattan dawn.

 

 

******

 

Things did not look better in the morning, Mike decided on the cab ride home. They looked nearly identical, with an overlay of a pounding skull and roiling nausea.  He was still pissed at Rachel and didn’t believe more talking would resolve anything. He wasn’t in the mood to confess his own infidelity. Maybe he would just grab his laptop, which he needed to get online and assess the job market, and then get the hell out of there. Even currently unemployed as he was, his bank account could weather a few nights at a hotel.

With Rachel’s schedule, more likely than not she would be gone already. Which was good, since he didn’t relish the thought of running into her right now.

Or Logan.

Rachel had denied seeing Logan while he was in prison, but Mike couldn’t get the niggle of suspicion out of his mind. He’d made a lot of angry declarations yesterday, but the truth was, he still felt something for Rachel. Maybe not love, of the all-consuming sort he’d once felt for her, but … something that wasn’t anger or disgust. Was there a chance they could work things out? Would his night with Harvey even the score between them, or only drive them further apart?

He remembered how he’d felt when he’d opened the door to find Logan there, and he shook his head. He couldn’t put himself through that kind of anguish again. No matter what Rachel said, there had to be something going on there. The look of surprise on Logan’s face at finding Mike home had been genuine.

The crazy thing was, he already regretted that Rachel would now feel the same flavor of pain that Mike had. Harvey was right. Falling into bed with him, with the Rachel situation unresolved, had been a mistake.

 

******

 

When he arrived home, the door to the apartment was ajar.

“What the hell …”

He pushed the door all the way open and peered inside. The first thing he noticed was the broken lamp on the floor next to the coffee table, upon which sat a bottle of wine and two glasses. Rachel’s phone was on the kitchen counter where she always left it when she was home, plugged into the charger.

The bedroom door was closed. Frowning, feeling a sort of superstitious dread, and moving as if in slow motion, Mike moved to the bedroom. He stood with his hand on the door knob for several seconds, listening.

Nothing. No whispered voices. No creaking mattress.

He threw the door open, almost yelling, “Ah ha!” The room was empty.

Still, he knew immediately that something was not right. Rachel’s purse, which she took everywhere with her, sat on the floor in its customary spot.

Returning to the living room, Mike stared at the broken lamp, the two glasses of wine, and the cell phone on the kitchen counter. All clues, telling him something he did not want to believe.

He took out his own cell phone and called Harvey.

“Mike?” Cautious, but not angry.

“I — Harvey, something is wrong. I came over here to get some of my things and the lamp — and her purse — and there were two glasses—”

“Whoa. Slow down. You’re not making any sense. Start at the beginning. Where are you?”

“At the apartment. Rachel’s and mine.”

“Okay. Now tell me about the lamp.”

Mike took several deep, slow breaths. “The front door was open. One of the lamps in the living room is broken.”

Harvey’s voice took on a note of alarm. “Are you okay? Did you call the police?”

“No, I’m okay. There’s nobody here. Aren’t you listening to me? She’s gone. Her purse is still here, and her phone, and there must have been somebody else here because there are two glasses of wine on the table. And the lamp is broken. And … and the front door was open.”

“Okay. I understand. I’m on my way over. I want you to go out to the sidewalk, call 911, and wait for me there.”

“Do you think something has happened to her?” He lowered his voice to a hoarse whisper. “Something bad?”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Just do as I’ve asked. Do you understand?”

“Yes. I’ll wait for you outside.”

 

******

 

The two patrol officers did not appear impressed with Mike’s story. He was grateful for Harvey’s presence, which kept him relatively calm.

“So, what you’re telling us,” said Officer Campbell, “is that you and your girlfriend had a fight, you stormed out and spent the night with a …” He gave Harvey a dubious look. “With a friend? And when you arrived this morning, you claim the place had been staged to look—”

“Not claimed. Not staged. What are you talking about? It’s obvious something bad happened here.”

“Uh huh. Tell us, who might have had cause to harm Ms. Zane? Besides yourself, that is.”

“What? Me? No …”

Mike felt Harvey’s hand on his arm, restraining him, which was good thing, or he might have lunged at the officer.

“I’m just saying, it’s been my experience that when someone calls their lawyer before they call the police, they have something to hide.”

“He’s not my lawyer.”

“If it turns out he needs a lawyer,” said Harvey, “I will absolutely be his.”

The second cop, Officer Lane, had been on the phone, but had now finished the call. Speaking to her partner, she said, “It turns out, Mr. Ross here just got out of prison.”

“Is that so? And when were you going to mention that?”

Mike thought he must be losing his mind. “Why would I mention that? This has nothing to do with that.”

“What was he in for?” asked Campbell.

Harvey stepped in front of Mike. “I don’t think I care for your tone.”

“It’s all right, Harvey. I was in prison for a grand total of two months. It wasn’t for anything … not like this. I was practicing law without a license. That’s it. So now that you know, maybe you could turn your attention away from me, and toward finding what happened to Rachel. I would suggest that you start with Logan Sanders.”

Officer Campbell had his notebook out, taking notes. “And this … Logan Sanders … why do you think he was involved?”

“Because he was here. He came over last night, looking for Rachel. And he seemed real surprised to see me. Plus—”

Harvey’s gave his arm a warning squeeze. “Maybe you shouldn’t say anything more.”

“No. They need to know everything. Rachel used to be involved with Logan. That was before we met, but then, there was this brief thing between them a couple of years ago.”

“A thing? Could you be more specific?”

“Just a brief … A kiss, okay? Rachel and I fought about it, but we worked past it, and as far as I knew, that was all in the past. Until …”

“Until he showed up at your door.” Campbell nodded, probably trying to appear sympathetic. “I’ll bet that made you angry.”

“You’re damn right, it did.”

Campbell scratched the side of his face and shot his partner a meaningful glance. “You know what, I think the best thing right now is if we continued this conversation down at the station.”

Harvey rolled his eyes. “No, I don’t believe we'll be doing that. Unless you’re planning to arrest my client without a shred of evidence, or even an actual crime?”

Hearing Harvey call him his client, both warmed Mike, and gave him an uncomfortable sense of déjà vu. The whole situation had gone impossibly sideways, and the police seemed to have no intention of actually investigating Rachel’s disappearance, or trying to discover what had gone on here.

“Why would I call you guys if I was responsible for this … whatever the fuck this even is?”

“If I knew why people did some of the things they do, I’d probably be commissioner by now,” said Campbell, affecting a world-weary look.

“Let’s bottom line this,” said Harvey. “Do you intend to do any actual investigating?”

Campbell appeared to think that over. “Bottom line? I don’t see any evidence of foul play.”

Mike pointed at the lamp. “What about that?”

“One broken lamp doesn’t prove anything. There’s no blood, and no real indication of a fight.”

“She wouldn’t have left without her phone, or her purse.”

“We can’t infer anything from that. Like I said, people’s motives are a mystery until they aren’t.”

“What the hell does that even mean?”

“Ms. Zane could just have easily staged this whole scene to get back at you for leaving her. Or she could have decided to skip town for reasons wholly unrelated to you, or your argument with her.  Also, it’s not our policy to open a missing person case less than forty-eight hours after an adult has disappeared. Which is why, in answer to your question, Mr. Specter, at this point, there is nothing to investigate. But, Mr. Ross, in case your suspicions are proven justified, kindly do not leave town.”

The two detectives left, and Mike collapsed onto the sofa. “I can’t believe this. What do we pay their salaries for?”

“I’m not saying I agree with them, but they make some good points.”

“You think she set this up as a joke? Or just to be cruel? Do either of those possibilities sound like the Rachel you know?”

“No. Then again, I never thought she’d cheat on you either, before she did.”

Mike groaned, scrubbing his hands through his hair. “What am I going to do? I know something is terribly wrong, but nobody believes me.  Shit. If I hadn’t been at your place last night, and if we hadn’t been screwing each other’s brains out, I would have been here to prevent this … whatever this is.”

Harvey sat slowly in the chair across from Mike, a stricken look on his face. “Do you regret last night? Because I sure as hell don’t.”

“Then why did you say it was a mistake?”

“Because the timing was wrong. And we were drunk. That’s not how I wanted our first time to go, did you?”

“No.” Mike’s expression softened. “No. Not at all.”

“You know I hope that Rachel is okay, right?”

“Of course.”

“But I need to ask:  if – no, when – we find her, and this turns out to be nothing but a misunderstanding, do you intend to fix things with her?”

“What do you mean?”

“I guess, what I’m really asking is, where do we stand? Where do I stand?”

“I can’t think about that right now. I’m sorry if that’s not what you wanted to hear. I don’t think I’ll be able to think rationally and calmly about anything until I find her.”

“We.”

Cautious hope bloomed inside of Mike. “We?”

“Yes. I’m in this with you, all the way. I’ll do whatever I can to help you solve this mystery.”

A portion of Mike’s tension receded. “Thank you. But where do we start?”

“Your building has a doorman. And I’m assuming there are security cameras.”

“There are.” Re-energized, Mike sprang to his feet. “Mike and Harvey, amateur sleuths. All we need is a dog named Asta, and we’re all set.” Despite his weak attempt at humor, Mike’s stomach was in knots.

Harvey chuckled. “You went old school for that one.”

“I sure did. Let’s get going. If someone did take Rachel by force, we’re probably running out of time already.”

 

******

 

The doorman on duty had not been there the previous night, and so couldn’t tell them when Rachel left, if she was alone, or much of anything. He didn’t put up much of a fight when they asked to view the security video files for the past twenty-four hours, and set them up in a small, airless room just off the lobby with a computer, and instructions on how to view the files.

“What time did you leave your apartment last night?” asked Harvey, when they were alone in the room.

“Around nine-thirty, I think.”

Working the mouse, Harvey advanced the counter to just after nine-thirty and pressed play.

“I feel like we should have some bad coffee while we do this,” said Mike.

“Hush. Pay attention. Wait. Did you see that?” Harvey went back ten seconds and replayed the scene. A person — probably a man, but they couldn’t say for sure — entered the lobby wearing a black sweatshirt with the hood up, and got on the elevator. “Who’s this guy? Do you recognize him?”

Mike frowned at the screen. “I’m not sure. Something about him feels familiar, but without seeing his face, I can’t say for sure. It’s not Logan. Not tall enough. Let’s see if we can switch over to the feed from the camera on my floor.”

When they’d figured out how to do that, the same person (presumably, since they still couldn’t see his — or her — face) emerged from the elevator and walked directly to the door of Mike’s apartment. Rachel opened the door. The video had no sound, but they could clearly make out the blank surprise on her face, followed by a tentative smile, which quickly warmed. Whoever the person in the hoodie was, Rachel appeared to know them. She ushered them inside and shut the door.

Harvey turned to Mike, one eyebrow lifted.

“Still no clue,” said Mike. “It’s too bad there is no sound on this thing. We could have listened for yelling, and the sound of that lamp falling, or being thrown.”

Harvey clicked on fast forward. Mike watched the counter advance, wondering how long they would have to wait. It turned out not to be long. The unknown person had been inside the apartment for perhaps twenty minutes, when the door opened again. Almost as if the hooded stranger knew precisely where the camera was located, and how to prevent revealing their face, they backed out of the apartment. Mike gasped in dismay. The stranger held a limp, unconscious Rachel around the middle. A thin trickle of blood ran down the side of her face. As they watched, she was dragged to the stairwell.

“Now what?” asked Mike. “Are there cameras in the stairwell?”

“Not according to the menu.”

“Queue up the lobby camera again.” Mike leaned forward, wishing he could climb into the monitor and stop the kidnapper from taking Rachel. They did not appear on the lobby camera again. “Shit. Where did they go?”

“What other ways are there to get out of the building?” asked Harvey. “Is there an underground parking garage?”

“No. It was built before there were requirements for that.” Mike frowned, reviewing in his mind the layout of the building. “There’s an exit onto the alley behind the building. They would have had to exit the stairwell on the second floor, and walk down half a flight of stairs on the other side of the hall.”

Harvey found the recording for a camera mounted in the alley. They both held their breath, until the door opened, and the two people emerged. This time the person in the hoodie — a man, as it turned out — made a mistake. Instead of keeping his back to the camera, or keeping his head down, he lifted his head and took a long look in each direction, up and down the alley.

“Is that—” said Harvey, at the same time Mike exclaimed, “Oh my god.”

They stared at one another for long seconds. Harvey shook his head. “It’s always the quiet ones,” he finally said.

“Goddamn it, Harold,” murmured Mike, “I helped you pick out your tattoo, and this is how you repay me?”

“You’re kidding. What did he choose?”

“Priorities, Harvey. But he chose a purple dragon with flaming nunchucks in its claws, and before you ask, I tried to talk him out of it.”

“I should hope so.”

They watched Harold Gunderson stuff Rachel into the passenger seat of a Smart Car, and drape a blanket over her. Seconds later, the car put-putted its way out of the alley.

“Did you get the license plate number?” asked Harvey.

“Yes.”

“We need to get the police involved. We have all the proof we need now to get their attention.”

“There’s no time. If Harold would go so far as to do kidnap Rachel, who knows what else he is capable of?”

“All right. We’ll brief the doorman. He can call the police and fill them in. You and I should get over to Harold’s.” Harvey paused. “You do know where he lives, right?”

“No. He never invited me to his place.”

“It’s okay. Leave it to me.” Harvey dug out his phone and placed a call to Vanessa, his private investigator.

 

******

 

Forty-five minutes later, Mike and Harvey stood outside of Harold’s building, debating their next move.

“If we buzz him, he’ll know we’re onto him,” Mike pointed out.

“It might interrupt whatever he’s planning to do.”

Harvey was right, but it still alarmed Mike to hear it put that way. “Should we wait for the police?”

Harvey frowned at him. “If they even decide to show up. The two we talked to seemed skeptical.”

A black town car pulled up to the curb. Mike might have paid no attention to it, but his gaze happened to be directed that way, so when the back door opened and Logan Sanders stepped out, his mouth dropped open in surprise and anger. Sidestepping Harvey, he strode over to Logan.

“What the hell? Are you and Harold in this together?”

Logan’s eyes flashed with annoyance, but other than that he remained infuriatingly calm. “I’m not in anything with anybody. I received a call from the NYPD, claiming that someone had accused me of hurting Rachel, and asking for my whereabouts last night. Luckily, I have a buddy in the department, who provided me with details about your complaint, and what you’d learned from the security video. And here I am. What are you still doing out here?”

“Waiting for the police to get here,” said Harvey, keeping a tight hold on Mike’s arm, correctly divining his urge to swing at Logan.

“Fuck that. I’m going in.” Logan muscled his way past them and tugged on the locked front door. He eyed the row of neatly labeled buzzers.

“Wait,” said Mike. “We can’t tip him off.”

“Then I guess we need to bust the door down.”

“Good luck with that. It’s a security door, with double-reinforced – ”

He stopped and froze in shock at the sight of Harvey dropping to his haunches in front of the door and pulling out implements which looked suspiciously like a lock pick set. With a series of rapid, deft movements, he had the door open, and was back on his feet.

“We’re going to talk about this later,” muttered Mike as he pushed past Harvey, beating Logan through the door.

Neither men bothered with the elevator, instead charging up the stairs to the second floor. Harold’s apartment door was closed and locked. Mike and Logan turned to look expectantly at Harvey, who had made the climb more slowly, and who now gave a long-suffering sigh, before making even quicker work of this lock than the one downstairs. The door swung open, and they were presented with the sight of Rachel, gagged with a cloth, tied to a straight-backed wooden chair, with Harold standing behind her, wearing suit and tie, and slowly dragging a brush through her long hair.

Everyone froze for several seconds. Mike moved first, charging forward to land a fist on Harold’s chin. Harold fell to the floor as Mike gave a shout of pain, shaking his throbbing hand. Moments later, two uniformed policemen charged through the door, and confusion reigned as they tried to sort out which one of them was the bad guy. Thankfully, Harvey stepped in and set them straight.

Harold was in handcuffs and being read his rights when Mike turned back Rachel, meaning to untie her.

Logan had beat him to it. Rachel was free already, on her feet and wrapped in Logan’s comforting embrace.

“Rachel? Um, hello? Fiancé, here.”

She burrowed her face into Logan’s chest. “I’m sorry, Mike.”

Logan didn’t look sorry. Over the top of Rachel’s head, he directed a look at Mike so smug and superior, that Mike was tempted to do further injury to his hand with a well-landed punch to Logan’s face. The feel of a warm hand on his shoulder pulled him back from the edge, squeezing, offering wordless comfort and sympathy.

Mike glanced over at Harvey, and in that moment, his outrage over Rachel’s betrayal dissolved like so much insubstantial mist. Remembering the night he’d spent with Harvey, losing his fiancée to Logan suddenly felt less like a tragedy, and more like a burden being lifted, and a roadblock to happiness removed for good.

It had been Harvey all along, he realized. Harvey had fought to keep him from prison, even offering to take his place. Harvey had driven him to Danbury, staying at his side until he walked through the prison gates. Harvey had made the drive up there to visit him, again and again, never giving up the fight to free him. And Harvey’s was the first face he saw when he walked out again, a free man thanks to Harvey’s efforts. Rachel might have been his dream girl, but Harvey was real, and solid, and when Mike looked at him, he saw the future.

If Harold hadn’t already been taken away by the police, Mike might have gone over to him to thank him for forcing Rachel’s hand. Harold had done a terrible thing, to be sure, but the worst that Rachel had suffered, it seemed now, was a mild head injury, and prolonged (and undeniably creepy) hair-brushing. He turned his back on the torrid kiss taking place between Rachel and Logan.

“What now?” he asked Harvey.

“We still have to go to the precinct and give the police our statements.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Oh.” Harvey took a moment before he answered. “How about we start with you accepting my job offer, and go from there?”

“And what about us? Will there be a repeat of last night?”

“God, Mike, do you even have to ask? Just say the word, and there will be as many nights as you want.”

 

**One Month Later**

It was a celebration, and they were all a bit tipsy from the champagne. Mike was finally a legitimate, licensed attorney, thanks to Harvey, who had used a goddamn pry bar to get him in admitted to the bar, and Jessica, who had arrived at the last minute to turn the decision in Mike’s favor. They had gathered in Harvey’s (formerly Jessica’s) office – Mike, Harvey, Jessica, Donna, Louis and Benjamin.

Rachel, having decided to go work for her father, was not there.

“You know,” said Mike, slurring a little and topping off his glass, “I’ve been thinking about it, and I believe the fault for that whole debacle with Harold can be traced directly to Donna.”

Donna performed a theatrical spit-take. “Shut your damn face. What the hell are you talking about?”

Mike shot Harvey a mischievous smile before continuing. “He just never got over that time in the file room, when he walked in on the two of us. I think it broke his brain.”

Harvey, who had been nodding and smiling, more than a little drunk himself, froze, and the smile dropped from his face. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Waving her hand, as if swatting away Mike’s teasing words and Harvey’s sudden, violent umbrage, Donna said airily, “Oh, that was nothing. Mike’s referring to the Blow Job of Distraction.”

“The what, now?” Harvey’s brows drew down, every bit as theatrical as Donna.

Mike was tempted to string this out a little longer, but he couldn’t bear the look of confused hurt on Harvey’s face. “Nothing happened,” he clarified. He wanted to reassure him with a touch, but they had not yet gone public with their relationship. “Light on the ‘blow job’ and heavy on the ‘distraction.’”

“How light?"

"Virtually non-existent. She may have been on her knees, but no actual jobs were blown. Or, not jobs … you know what I mean."

Harvey narrowed his eyes at Mike, as if struggling to understand. "Donna? Can you corroborate Mike’s story?”

She shrugged and downed half a glass of champagne. “Not that I would have minded—"

Smiling broadly, Mike interjected, "I knew it."

"-- but Mike’s right. Pure subterfuge. Should have known that little twit would get it twisted.”

The entire group shared a laugh, after which they eyed one another guiltily, because … too soon. It was no laughing matter. Rachel had been in real danger. Harold would likely go to jail, pending a psychiatric evaluation. Despite what he'd done, Mike hoped Harold wouldn't end up somewhere with his own Frank Gallo to deal with.  He blew out a breath, exhausted all of a sudden. It had been a long day.

It was Jessica who broke up the party. "I have a flight to catch," she said, and handed out another round of hugs and air kisses to everyone there. Louis left with Donna, having plans to see the Broadway show they'd been rhapsodizing over for weeks. Benjamin broke into a wide, genuine grin and gave Mike's shoulder a squeeze, before heading back to the IT department, presumably to do mysterious IT things.

Alone now, Mike and Harvey eyed one another, grinning, both of their thoughts having apparently moved in the same direction.

“Do you want to …?” asked Harvey.

“Not in your office. Too many windows.”

“Hm. Why don’t you show me that file room where you and Donna almost did the deed?”

Knowing there was nobody around to see, Mike grasped Harvey’s hand and towed him out of the office and down the hallway. The actual file room in question was down two floors, but he couldn’t wait that long. He pulled Harvey into the closest one on their floor and kicked the door shut behind them.

“Lock it,” growled Harvey, all low and sexy.

Mike turned back to the door and pushed in the lock in the middle of the knob. It wouldn’t hold against a truly determined person, but he figured it didn’t much matter. It was after six on a Friday night, and he’d be surprised if anyone but them was left on the floor. He turned back to find Harvey standing only inches away. Mike plastered on his best drunken, come hither look.

Harvey dropped to his knees and attacked Mike’s fly.

“Oh. Hey. Okay.” Mike leaned against the door and left Harvey to it.

Seconds later, Mike’s pants and sagged to his ankles, and his belt clanged dully on the carpeted floor. With a wicked lift of one eyebrow, Harvey cupped Mike through the front of his underpants.

“Would you say,” asked Harvey, stroking his erection lightly, “that this is a faithful reenactment of what happened with you and Donna?”

“She never – Ah, God! – she never touched me like that. Or at all, really.”

Harvey mouthed him wetly, dampening the thin cotton, and then lifted his head. “How about like that?” He molded the back of Mike’s jockeys to his ass crack, and rubbed. “Is this how it went, right here next to the door?”

Mike cradled Harvey’s head between his palms and tried to remember to breathe. “N-no. We were more over there.” He gestured vaguely at rows of shelving holding neatly labeled banker boxes, and then let out an embarrassing squeak when Harvey stood up, grabbed him by his cock and towed him down the nearest row. His feet stuttered, and he nearly stumbled, hampered by the pants tangled around his ankles.

“Here?” asked Harvey.

“Yeah. Sure. Here.”

“Take me through what happened.”

“Now?”

“I just want to understand.”

Mike wasn’t fooled by Harvey’s mild tone. The heat in his eyes announced that they were about to fuck, right here in the file room. He indulged Harvey.

“We were looking for a document. It was all hush-hush.”

“I remember.”

“And then – ” He broke off when Harvey knelt in front of him once more and slid his hand down the front of Mike’s underwear, reaching for his balls.

“And then, what?”

“Uh. Harold knocked. He needed something from the room. So, Donna got down right where you are now. She loosened my tie, messed up my hair.”

Harvey reached up to give Mike’s tie a sharp tug, pulling the knot loose. At the same time, his other hand dug furrows through Mike’s hair, and down his back, which was nice, but Mike sort of wished he’d get his hand back on his balls, or somewhere else in that vicinity.

Lifting Mike’s dress shirt, Harvey kissed his belly, and licked his hipbone. “What else, baby?”

The truthful answer would have been, “Not a damn thing.” It finally clicked with Mike, what Harvey wanted. “She used her tongue first. Just her tongue.

Harvey pushed Mike’s underwear down to mid-thigh and teased the head of his cock with the tip of his tongue. Fearful that his knees might give way, Mike braced his hand on the shelving, one on either side of him. “A-and then, she held the base of my cock and popped the head into her mouth, sucking and licking like it was a lollipop.”

Harvey met his eyes, one brow raised, and sucked Mike’s cockhead into his mouth. A random thought flitted into Mike’s mind. How would Donna feel if she could see them in here? How might she react to them basically using her as a prop in their sexy times? A laugh threatened to bubble up from his chest, so he pressed his lips together, and turned it into a groan.

Harvey pulled off just long enough to order, “Go on.”

Mike was tempted to tell him that Donna had bent him over a shelf and fucked his ass so hard that the boxes jumped, and the shelves nearly toppled. Instead, he rasped, “She licked my shaft, up and down, and cradled my balls, and then … mmph.” He tucked his lips together and shut his eyes tightly, before continuing, voice weak, “And then she swallowed me all the way down, a-and did that thing with her throat.” That thing that Harvey did, and was doing right now.

Thankfully, Harvey didn’t demand further narration. Mike doubted he would have been able to form a coherent sentence, or even a word. Harvey sucked, and slurped and worked his throat, rolled Mike’s balls in one hand, and used the fingers of the other to tease his hole. Letting go of the shelves, Mike leaned on Harvey’s shoulders for support.

“I’m close,” he choked out, mostly as a courtesy. Harvey continued to hold him in his mouth as Mike’s hips stuttered wildly, and his head tipped back, and he gave a strangled yell.

Harvey suckled his spent cock until Mike grew too sensitive, and pushed at his shoulder, signaling that he’d had enough. He gazed down into Harvey’s grinning face with something far stronger than fondness. “Let me do you now,” he said.

Harvey looked drunk, and loopy, and as happy as Mike had ever seen him. “I’m good,” he said, and his grin stretched even wider. “I came in my pants.”

 

******

 

Later that night, they lay in bed together, catching their breath from yet another round of energetic sex. Mike had his head on Harvey’s shoulder, and traced lazy circles on his bare chest.

“In a weird way,” he said, trying to articulate something that he’d been turning over in his mind for a while, “I think Harold did us a huge solid. I always liked the guy, and I sort of still do – except for him being a big old psychopath.”

“Hm.” Harvey toyed with Mike’s hair. “I wouldn’t go so far as to say I like him. I may have been jealous of Rachel, but – ”

“Wait. Whoa. Back up. You? Jealous?”

“Mike …”

“Sorry. I need a second to process this information.” He paused. “Okay. Continue.”

“I was only going to say that I never would have wished that on Rachel. She may have had what I wanted, for a while, but I can’t fault her for her taste in men.”

Mike screwed up his face. “Except that she’s with Logan now.”

“Well.” Harvey couldn’t seem to find a ready response for that.

Mike lifted his head to get a look at Harvey’s face. “Do you think you would ever reach that level of obsession? Like, kidnapping, and hair-brushing?”

Harvey’s hand in his hair froze for a moment, and then resumed its movement. “I suppose we won’t have to discover the answer to that now, will we?”

Mike shivered, and lay his head back on Harvey’s shoulder.

 

**The End.**

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
